


Field Studies

by concavepatterns



Series: Love and Great Buildings [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Top Bucky Barnes, pancakes with a side of sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10024097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concavepatterns/pseuds/concavepatterns
Summary: “Fuck, look at you,” Bucky breathes in awe, staring at Steve with big, dark eyes. “How many times in a row can you come?”Steve blushes a little at the question, though he can’t actually bring himself to feel any sort of shame over the fact that he just got off in 30 seconds flat and is more than ready to do it again. Not when Bucky’s looking at him like that. “Don’t know,” he admits.“We’re gonna figure that out,” Bucky promises.--The one where Bucky makes good on his promise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t read the first part of this series, all you really need to know is that Steve is still Cap, but Bucky is a med student. Part 3 will contain actual plot, but for now, please enjoy a whole lotta porn :)

 

Bucky wakes up in slow stages; first becoming aware of the warm nest of blankets around him, then registering the low thrum of white noise that means the shower’s currently running in the adjoining bathroom.

Eyes still closed, he sinks back into that blissful nearly-totally-asleep state for a few minutes longer, until the soft, steady rush of water eventually stops and, not long afterwards, is replaced by the quiet pad of still-bare feet across the floor, coming to a stop at the edge of the bed before the mattress dips under the presence of a new weight.

“Mmph, no,” Bucky mumbles the complaint into his pillow, eyes still firmly shut. Though, he muses sleepily, post-shower Steve does mean there’s about a 75% chance of him currently being shirtless, which are _almost_ tempting enough odds to have Bucky’s eyelids cracking open.  “S’ my day off.”

Steve chuckles, low and fond as one pleasantly heavy, shower-warmed palm starts rubbing up and down Bucky’s back. “I know, and you’re wasting it all in bed.”

“Yes,” Bucky says seriously, still speaking mostly into his pillow. “The way God intended.”

At that Steve outright laughs, leaning over Bucky’s blanket-burritoed body to plant a kiss high on his temple. “Well, don’t stay in there too long. I’m making pancakes.”

Intrigued, Bucky’s foggy brain immediately perks up at that promising news (Steve makes his pancakes from scratch - a level of dedication Bucky can never be bothered with), one eye finally opening into a narrow slit until he can just make out the damp, spiky mess of Steve’s hair, the deep, ever-changing blue of his eyes and the amused quirk of his lips (not to mention the fact that he is, indeed, gloriously shirtless).

God damn.

It’s been three months of this, three months since they’d finally confessed their feelings for each other, three months of being lucky enough to wake up to that face more mornings than not, and yet the sight of Steve still hits Bucky like a brick wall every time, leaving him speechless and dazzled and feeling more than a little stupid.  It’s enough to make his lungs stutter to a halt and he has to actively work his way through one deep breath before finally propping himself up on an elbow to inquire in a sleep-gravelly voice, “Pancakes, huh?”

Steve hums in confirmation, leaning back in for a slow, lazy good morning kiss. “With bacon and everything,” he adds temptingly, pecking Bucky on the lips once more before giving him a light slap on the thigh and rising from the bed.

“Okay, okay,” Bucky concedes, watching the smooth ripple of muscle in Steve’s back as he turns to dig around in the dresser drawer for a shirt. “Gimmie two minutes.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Steve warns, snagging a plain white tee before quickly tugging it over his head, making his untidy hair look even crazier when he twists around to grin at Bucky.

Bucky automatically grins back, hands itching to reach out and ruffle up that blond nest even more. But alas, that would require actually getting out of bed, so he makes a mental note to devote some quality time to it later. Much, much later.

“Just roll me down the hallway when the coffee’s ready,” he decides before flopping back into his mass of blankets face-first, making Steve laugh and throw an acknowledging salute over his shoulder as he starts for the kitchen.

 

In the end, he doesn’t roll. He walks, but it’s with great reluctance and a total of three very specific goals in mind: caffeine, pancakes, and warm, happy Morning Steve.

“God, you’re the fuckin’ best,” Bucky says gratefully, immediately accepting the mug Steve holds out for him when he finally shuffles his way into the kitchen an indeterminate amount of time later.

Steve smiles, broad and bright and unbearably handsome, looking like the physical embodiment of domestic perfection with his low-riding sleep pants, too-tight shirt and plastic spatula in hand as he stands over the stovetop.

Lifting his coffee for a much-needed sip, Bucky doesn’t bother to hide it when he checks Steve out over the rim of the mug, eyes roaming from face to chest to waist and back again.

Fuck, he thinks appreciatively, that’s a sight he’s never gonna get tired of.

Steve catches him staring and clears his throat, eyes flicking up to meet Bucky’s steadily. “Food’ll be ready in a minute.” His voice sounds a little rougher than normal, gaze still intently trained on Bucky’s face rather than the batch of sizzling pancakes behind him.

It’s the kind of look that sends a shiver up Bucky’s back, from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. The kind of look that makes his skin go hot and his lungs forget how to work. The kind of look that has his brain happily handing control over to his rapidly-hardening dick.

Bucky swallows. Hard.

“Good,” he manages hoarsely, chin tilting up and eyes boldly holding Steve’s so there’s absolutely no mistaking the meaning of his words when he adds, “I’m starving.”

Steve’s eyes darken, chest rising and falling noticeably faster as he stares back. “God, Buck,” he murmurs, mouth open like he’s about to say something else, but then the oven timer beeps, startling them both as that quick-building tension shatters like a window pane.

Steve swears and starts searching around for the oven mitts, eventually locating one behind the flour canister, yanking it on as he explains, somewhat embarrassed, “Bacon.”

Bucky huffs out a weak laugh, trying to get himself back under control as he swallows another mouthful of coffee before swinging by the fridge to pull out the syrup, depositing it and his now half-empty mug on the table Steve’s already set.

“You’re too good to me, Stevie,” he says as he slides into one of the chairs, grinning when Steve brings over two heaping plates loaded with pancakes and bacon a minute later.

“You can’t live off of Lucky Charms seven days a week,” Steve replies, putting on his best Concerned Boyfriend face and everything, eyebrows drawn together as the side of his mouth quirks into a faint half-smile. “Why am I always the one reminding you to eat better, anyway? You’re the doctor-in-training, shouldn’t you know this stuff?”

“Not real sure this qualifies as better,” Bucky observes as he proceeds to drown his pancakes in enough maple syrup to choke a Canadian lumberjack, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Steve’s half-smile grows another few degrees as he shakes his head, dropping into the chair opposite Bucky before digging into his own plate.

They eat in an easy, comfortable silence through most of the meal, until Bucky stretches his legs out under the table and bumps Steve’s ankle with his foot, first by accident and then twice more on purpose, just because.

Steve’s eyes narrow slightly as he swipes another forkful of pancake through a stray patch of syrup on his plate. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Buck.” Despite the warning, his tone stays evenly neutral; casual but holding a hint of thinly-veiled steel underneath, and it sends a small spark of delight down Bucky’s spine.

He’s heard that voice before. That voice is one step down from Steve’s official Captain America voice, riding the line of stern and authoritative, and it never fails to get Bucky thirty different kinds of riled up. He fucking _loves_ that voice.

Swallowing his last bite of bacon, Bucky leans back in his seat, keeping his tone level as he responds, just as casually, “Who says I’m not gonna finish it?”

Their eyes lock across the table and just like that, the earlier tension returns. Tenfold.

Steve’s face is all challenge bathed in hungry want; jaw set, eyes dark, grip unconsciously tightening around the handle of his fork until his knuckles stand out white.

Bucky can feel the physical force of that look gathering in the air like a brewing thunderstorm, charged and electric; an increasingly thick, tangible weight simmering hotly in the space between them.

His blood pumps a little faster, each breath coming out a little more shallow, and all his nerve endings feel like they’re on fire, desperate for the heavy, warm weight of Steve’s hands - Steve’s mouth - on his chest, hips, ass, _everywhere_.

“Are you done?” Steve asks, still using that deep, controlled voice. Bucky’s too busy staring at Steve’s hands to fully comprehend the fact that he’s even spoken at all, the question not really registering until Steve prompts him with a low, shiver-inducing, “Bucky?”

Bucky shakes himself from his stupor, glancing down at the last uneaten wedge of pancake remaining on his plate. Suddenly he’s not so hungry anymore. At least not for food.

“Yeah,” he eventually manages to answer as his attention slowly roams back up to Steve’s face, unconsciously wetting his bottom lip before drawing it in between his teeth.

Steve’s eyes track the action before he rises from his chair in one quick, smooth movement, silently gathering up both their plates.

Bucky doesn’t offer any kind of comment either (he’s not sure he can with the way his tongue suddenly feels too thick for his mouth) and that silence feels alive, crackling, weighing down the air like summer humidity and making Bucky’s skin prickle with heat. Making it harder to breathe.

On somewhat shaky legs, he manages to stand and follow after Steve, limbs working on autopilot as he returns the syrup and a few stray pancake ingredients to the fridge while struggling not to spontaneously combust with want.

He watches as Steve dumps their syrup-sticky plates in the sink and then grips the edge of the counter with both hands, head dropping low between his shoulders as he pushes out a soft exhale, and all Bucky can do is openly stare at the broad width of Steve’s back, muscles set in a hard, taut line. It makes his mouth go dry.

After one more breath Steve finally turns, catches Bucky’s eye for one long, significant moment in which Bucky’s heart forgets its own rhythm, and then he’s on him; hands in his hair, mouth hot and insistent against Bucky’s own.

Bucky melts under the hard pressure of the kiss, gripping Steve’s biceps for support as he lets himself get swept away in it.

“God,” Steve’s voice is hoarse when they finally break apart for air, “God, you’re so beautiful. I wanna...” the rest of his request trails off as he tips his head to the side, distracted with nuzzling the skin where Bucky’s neck meets his jaw. “Can we...?”

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, head dizzy and skin on fire, arching his neck to give Steve better access. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Clumsy and impatient, they bang into the fridge, then an inconveniently located wall, then the edge of the doorframe before finally making it back to Steve’s bed, landing in a heap of eager hands and nipping teeth.

“Been thinkin’,” Bucky gets out between increasingly bruising kisses, “about a promise I made you.”

“Hmm?” Steve works his hands under the front of Bucky’s shirt as he mouths a warm line down the side of his throat, instantly turning whatever’s left of Bucky’s brain to mush.

“Ah...” Bucky struggles to remember where he was going with this as Steve’s thumb brushes over one nipple, “...remember...our first time?”

Steve makes this low, growly noise that’s easily the hottest fucking thing Bucky’s ever heard and his cock jumps in response, desperate for attention when Steve pulls back enough to level him with an intense, smoldering stare. “You think I could ever forget?”

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, feeling like he could come from the heat of that look alone. “Okay, yeah, um, do you remember when I asked how many times in a row you could get off? And I said-”

“Said we were gonna figure it out sometime,” Steve finishes for him, sounding just as breathless as Bucky now. “Yeah, I remember.”

Sliding his hands down to Steve’s ass, Bucky pulls him in close, murmuring, “Do you maybe wanna...?”

Steve groans, dropping his head to press his face into the curve of Bucky’s neck. “God, Buck. Yes. God yes, I want that so much.”

“Been dyin’ to do this,” Bucky confesses, unable to stop from thrusting his hips up against Steve’s, letting their erections rub up against each other through the thin fabric of their pyjamas and making Steve groan again. “Wanna strip you down piece by piece, see just how much you can take before that serum gives out.” Lips brushing the shell of Steve’s ear he adds, lower now, “What do you think, Stevie? Can you come five times for me? Ten? Fifteen?”

Steve’s breath hitches as he rolls his hips down to meet Bucky’s. “Jesus,” he swears, voice raw. “I don’t know.”

“Mm, then we should do some research,” Bucky says, nosing along Steve’s cheek until he can catch his mouth in a brief, sweet kiss. “A field study. For scientific purposes.”

Steve huffs out a strained laugh. “Is this coming from Bucky my boyfriend, or Bucky the medical professional?”

“Both,” Bucky admits with a grin, not the slightest bit ashamed at having been caught. “I mean, physiologically, your body’s fucking fascinating, but more importantly, you’re mind-blowingly hot when you come. And I wanna make you do that. _A lot_ ,” he finishes, biting at Steve’s neck to underscore that last point.

Steve makes a rough noise, seeking out Bucky’s mouth again and kissing him hard. “I really like that plan,” he admits, sounding breathy when they part.

Bucky smirks. “Thought you might.” Stealing one more kiss for the road, he wiggles under Steve’s weight, spurring him to roll off of Bucky and onto the mattress beside him. “Don’t move,” Bucky orders as he slips off the bed, body practically humming with anticipation as he hurriedly works to compile a mental list of supplies. Lube and condoms, for sure. A few bottles of water. Maybe some damp washcloths or wipes.

“Fuck,” he murmurs out loud to no one but himself and the kitchen, a little in awe, while loading his arms full of water from the fridge. He actually gets to do this. Steve had said yes. Steve _wants_ it. Bucky’s brain almost blows a fuse from the mere thought alone.

It’s a struggle not to literally run back to the bedroom but Bucky manages; pace only a step or two quicker than normal before he sets up his supply of water and wet wipes on the bedside table, grinning when he sees that Steve’s already pulled the lube and a rather ambitious number of condoms from the drawer.

“Someone’s eager,” he teases, planting one knee on the mattress and leaning down to kiss Steve warm and slow.

Steve threads a hand up into his hair, holding Bucky in place as he kisses him back. “Fucking right I am,” he says roughly, untangling his fingers with reluctance when Bucky finally breaks the kiss, laughing at Steve’s enthusiasm as he settles onto the mattress down near Steve’s thigh.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Bucky asks, already reaching back out to run his palm down the firm, muscled line of Steve’s leg, unable to keep his hands to himself. “You got any toys or anything you want me to use?”

“No.” Steve’s already looking at him like he hung the fucking moon; eyes huge, face overflowing with trust. “Just you.”

Bucky’s heart does a warm little somersault in his chest. “Jesus, Stevie.”  He has to kiss him again; can’t not when Steve says shit like that.

Steve’s lips part easily under his and they kiss long and deep and leisurely until Bucky’s head is swimming and his cock aches for friction. Reluctantly, his metal hand finds Steve’s shoulder, pressing him gently but firmly back into the mattress before pulling away with a few heavy, panting breaths.

“Okay...okay.” Bucky tries to get his scattered thoughts back into some semblance of order. Staring at Steve’s wet, kiss-bruised mouth definitely isn’t helping. “Um...ground rules. You’ve gotta be able to give me a signal if it gets to be too much.”

Still panting a bit himself, Steve nods, trying to look serious but mostly coming across as really fucking earnest and adorable instead. “Right. Sure. Like what?”

Mouth pressing into a thoughtful line, Bucky thinks over their options before settling on, “You know the traffic lights? Green for go, red to stop?”

Steve blinks up at him. “Can’t I just say no?”

Bucky lifts a shoulder, shrugging. “If you want. But fair warning,” he adds with a grin that grows increasingly sharp-edged as he slowly leans back in until his nose touches Steve’s, voice dropping low and suggestive as he murmurs, “I plan on taking you apart so thoroughly, so fucking completely, I’m kinda counting on you tellin’ me no over and over till your voice is fucking _wrecked_.”

“Oh god.” Steve’s eyes flutter shut as he pulls in a soft, hitching breath, and when they reopen, his pupils are enormous, steadily swallowing the bright ring of blue around them.

The sight makes Bucky’s pulse stumble and reset itself until it feels like it’s racing five times faster. Fuck, that look could bring half the country to its knees. “So,” he manages in what’s hopefully a somewhat steady voice, “you need me to stop for real, you say red, okay?”

Steve’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice already plummeting into thick and heated territory, doing absolutely nothing to help control the rising hum of arousal pumping like liquid fire through Bucky’s bloodstream.

“Alright then.” Bucky smiles down at him, slow and so, so wide. “You ready for this, sweetheart?”

Steve meets his eyes, a grin of his own tugging slightly at his lips. “Green. Bring it, Barnes.”

 

The first three he pulls from Steve like honey; slow and smooth and sweet.

Steve comes apart beautifully under the work of Bucky’s hands, lips and tongue, spilling twice into the soft, inviting heat of Bucky’s mouth and once across the trembling, sweat-slick muscles of his own abdomen.

It’s after the third when Bucky shuffles up from where he’s been kneeling at the end of the mattress and collapses onto his side, body stretching out along the long line of Steve’s own until they slot up against each other like matching puzzle pieces; Steve’s hands splayed out on Bucky’s back and hip, Bucky’s thigh shoved between Steve’s legs.

He tucks his face into the slope of Steve’s neck, which is currently giving off heat like a radiator on the fritz, and takes a moment to reel in the wild, rabbit-quick thrum of his pulse.

“You doin’ okay?” He checks in after a minute, heaving himself up onto one arm until he’s got enough leverage to be able to study Steve’s face.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, still sprawled on his back, eyes closed, sounding blissed-out and far away. “Doin’ great.”

Bucky grins at the sight. God, there’s nothing better than Steve moaning and writhing and straining up under him. He’s been so good, coming again and again, Bucky’d been able to easily push aside his own wants during those first few rounds, the desire to make Steve feel good outweighing all else, but now Bucky’s neglected cock is throbbing almost painfully for any form of attention, rock-hard and leaking and impossible to ignore any longer.

He tips his chin until his mouth can brush the shell of Steve’s ear, feeling Steve shiver and hum at the soft puff of warm air on his skin. It’s a particularly sensitive area of his, Bucky knows. Just like the skin below his navel. The hollow dip at the base of his throat. Bucky plans on spending ample time reacquainting his tongue with every one of those delightfully responsive zones.

“You look so goddamn good,” he breathes, nipping lightly at Steve’s earlobe and earning a slight moan in response. “I want to fuck you now. Is that okay?”

“Jesus.” Steve shudders against him, and the words alone are already enough to have the half-softened length of his cock thickening back up with interest. “Yeah. Please, Buck.”

Rolling his weight back over Steve, Bucky meets him for a brief kiss before reaching across for the lube and popping it open. “Gonna open you up,” he tells Steve quietly. It’s a needless explanation but Bucky likes to narrate all his actions anyway, loving the response any kind of dirty talk evokes from Steve. “Get you takin’ my fingers real nice, till you’re so wet and stretched for me, I can slide right in like I belong there.”

Steve lets out a low, breathless sound like all the air’s been punched from his lungs. “You do,” he murmurs, reaching for any stretch of Bucky’s skin he can find and landing on his metal wrist, curling fingers around it tightly, “you do belong there.”

 “Steve.” Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Bucky blinks away the sudden hot, itchy feeling behind his eyes, struggling to keep himself together. Jesus Christ, the middle of a sex marathon is not the time to start crying over weirdly touching statements about Steve’s ass.

Registering the look on Bucky’s face, Steve chuckles. “Sorry.” The hand still holding onto Bucky’s arm lifts to his mouth and he presses an apologetic kiss to the inside of Bucky’s slightly cool wrist, right over where the pulse point would be.

“Fuckin’ sap,” Bucky mutters, aiming for crusty and missing by a mile. “Don’t gotta apologize.” Then, before Steve can say anything else, he catches his mouth in a kiss that’s warm and sweet, quickly gaining a deeper, more intense edge when Steve gasps into it, lips easily parting as Bucky licks his way inside.

While he’s got Steve distracted at the mouth, he presses one slicked-up finger between the firm cheeks of his ass, making Steve’s next gasp dissolve into a low, drawn-out moan as his hips shift restlessly on the mattress.

“You like that?” Bucky murmurs against his lips, rubbing teasingly at the tight ring of muscle until it’s pliant enough to ease the tip of his finger inside.

Steve makes a soft whining noise, trying to push back; take more. His mouth is hanging half open, eyes dark and glassy with pleasure as he tries to narrow them into an unimpressed glare.

“Oh, you want this bad, don’t you?” Bucky observes, not able to resist poking the proverbial bear. Or, in this case, the desperately turned-on super soldier spread out under him.  

Pressing his metal palm flat to Steve’s pelvis, he holds him motionless as he works his finger just a shade deeper, making Steve’s head press back hard into his pillow as a rough, throaty sound climbs up from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Fuck. Bucky,” he grinds out, looking supremely annoyed, “put your goddamned fingers in my goddamned ass, _now_.”

Bucky can’t help but laugh and swoop down for a brief kiss, finally relenting and giving Steve what he wants as he slides the full length of his finger into him, quickly following it up with a second and drawing a satisfied noise of relief from Steve.

“Bossiest fuckin’ bottom I know,” Bucky says fondly, pressing another lazy kiss to Steve’s mouth before promising, “I won’t leave you hanging, sweetheart. I’m gonna give you what you need.”

“I know you will,” Steve murmurs, cheeks flushed and eyes glued to Bucky’s face, looking like a goddamned dream, “but if you could get to it sometime this century, that’d be great.”

The dry sarcasm in his voice makes Bucky smile. “No promises, Stevie,” he says lightly even though he’s already reaching for the lube again, coating his fingers with a little extra before carefully working a third in alongside the two others.

 Steve makes a pleased humming sound, fisting one hand in the sheets as the other seeks out the brushed metal of Bucky’s arm where he’s still holding Steve’s hips flat to the mattress, fingers curving around his forearm and just resting there; a simple but sweet point of contact.

“Better,” Steve confirms, panting slightly as Bucky gets to thrusting.

Fighting the urge to laugh, Bucky bites his lip around a grin. Fuck, does he ever love what a demanding little shit this guy can be.

“Yeah?” He replies, grin widening as he curls his fingers up, thrusting again, searching by touch alone and looking for right...

 _There_.

“ _Ah_ ,” Steve tries to rock his hips up, eyes squeezing shut as he hisses out, “Jesus, oh god, that’s... _oh_.” The muscles in his thighs are trembling, and when Bucky drags his eyes from Steve’s ass to his cock, it’s wet and needy looking, iron-hard and flushed a dark, appealing pink at the tip.

“Shit,” Bucky breathes with awed realization, “you’re gonna come just from this, aren’t you?”

“Bucky,” Steve practically whines, back arching, hips trying vainly to grind against nothing. “Need to - oh god, I need to, please.”

Fuck, isn’t that a sight. Bucky bites his lip harder, bringing his free hand to the base of his own cock and giving it a quick squeeze to relieve some of the overwhelming ache.

“You need to come again, baby?” He asks, voice so low and filthy, for an instant he doesn’t even register it as his own.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Steve moans, shameless and needy in a way Bucky’s never seen before. But good fucking god, could he ever get used to it.

“So fucking gorgeous, Stevie, look at you,” he babbles, fingers curling again, making Steve whine and clench around them. “I’m so goddamn lucky, getting to touch you like this, having you all to myself. God, you’re so good, sweetheart. Bein’ so perfect for me.”

“Bucky,” Steve’s breathing like oxygen’s a rare commodity, pulling in deep, greedy lungfuls that falter and hitch with every few breaths, “oh, _fuck_.” The hand that’s still gripping Bucky’s forearm tightens instinctively as Steve quickly moves to bring the other down, slipping it between his legs, and he barely gets a fist around his cock before he’s biting off a groan, coming in long, hot streaks across his hand and stomach.

“Jesus,” Bucky breathes, watching him. Number four is just as impressive as the first three and he can only stare with hungry eyes, feeling a little light-headed with how much he needs to take care of his own increasingly insistent erection. Preferably, right the fuck now.

Swallowing roughly, he slips his fingers free and stretches across the bed to the side table, snagging the wet wipes and one of the water bottles he’d set out there, quickly cleaning up before cracking the bottle open and taking a long pull to ease the dry scrape in his throat.

“Here,” he murmurs, passing the rest to Steve, who downs the remaining three-quarters of the bottle in about two mouthfuls. “You still good?”

Licking a few stray drops of water from his lips, Steve nods. “Yeah. Keep going.” His expression turns teasing then, energy already returning like that last orgasm was barely a blip on his satiation radar. “You haven’t even fucked me yet. Let’s get to the good stuff.”

Bucky barks out a surprised laugh, exclaiming, “The good stuff?! What’ve I been doing so far?”

“That was good too,” Steve is quick to assure, matching Bucky’s wide, amused grin with one of his own and sitting up properly so he can reach for him, pulling Bucky in by the wrist and opposite hip, “but I want you in me, Buck.” Steve’s voice drops to a heated murmur as he starts nosing along the line of Bucky’s jaw, hands roaming up and down his sides. “God, I want you so bad.”

 Bucky shivers from the combination of words and touch, tilting his head until he can catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss that feels long overdue. It starts off gentle and relaxed, a soft, easy melding of lips and tongue, but the minute Steve snakes an arm down between their bodies, fingers loosely curling around the hard length of Bucky’s cock, it rises to a desperate, feverish pitch.

God, Bucky needs this so damn much, just that small brush of fingers has him gasping into Steve’s mouth, arms winding around his neck as the kiss deepens into something harder, more aggressive; finesse lost to feeling. 

“On your hands and knees,” Bucky directs once they’ve pulled apart for air, voice dangerously close to cracking half way through.

Steve’s eyes widen just enough to give away his obvious approval of that plan, and then he’s rolling over to balance his weight as instructed, and the sight makes Bucky’s mouth dry up. Jesus. He’s all broad, muscled back, tapering into that ridiculous trim waist, and when he spreads his legs wider, throwing an impatient look over his shoulder, that’s when Bucky pounces.

He starts by working his lips down the line of Steve’s spine, occasionally pausing to swirl his tongue or sink in his teeth, and by the time he finally reaches the base of Steve’s tailbone, Steve is cursing and begging and clenching tight fistfuls of sheets.       

“Come on, Buck.” Steve sounds just as restless as he looks, about ready to vibrate out of his skin with want, and Bucky doesn’t have it in him to draw this out any longer (honestly, he deserves a goddamned medal for managing to hold out this long), so he goes for the condoms, jaw tightening as he fights the urge to thrust into his own hand as rolls one on and slicks himself up (did he say one medal? He meant two. Definitely two).

“Yeah,” he answers breathlessly as he shuffles forward on the mattress, half distracted by watching the way the head of his cock looks when it finally presses up snug against Steve’s ass, “Jesus...”

Flesh hand gripping Steve’s shoulder, he plants his metal palm on the small of Steve’s back, holding him still at just the right angle, and then he starts the slow slide in with one long, smooth press of hips.

Steve makes an involuntary noise that’s caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and Bucky...Bucky is about to either pass out or die altogether from the overwhelmingly hot, tight heat of Steve’s body, smooth and slick and so, so good as he sinks in deep.

He can feel himself panting, lips slightly parted as he puts more pressure on the palm holding Steve in place, forcing him to bow his back a little more, and when Bucky finally feels like he’s physically prepared enough to ease his hips back without immediately losing it, they both groan at the slow, satisfying slide.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky swears on another long groan, desperately wanting to watch the way the length of his cock gradually disappears into the snug heat of Steve’s ass, but the sensation is too much and instead his eyes make an executive decision, automatically fluttering shut on every thrust without his input, “this isn’t gonna last long, Stevie.”

“S’okay.” Steve has to try twice before his whole reply comes out clearly. His voice is like churned-up gravel, rough and uneven, forehead dropping down to press into mattress on Bucky’s next thrust. “Not – _ah_ \- not gonna take me much longer.”

 _Jesus_ , Bucky thinks fervently, tipping his head back and sending a prayer up to the ceiling as he tries to scrape together a little more strength. He may have grossly underestimated exactly how much of a toll this whole experiment would take - not on Steve, but on _himself_. He feels like he’s about to combust with how fucking hot Steve looks and sounds and feels like this; like there’s an active volcano simmering just under his skin, and when he finally lets go, the force of it’ll have him flying apart in a shower of red-hot sparks.

Before any of that though, he needs to take care of his guy.

Working up into a quicker, harder rhythm, Bucky’s next set of thrusts have them both letting out breathless little noises every time his hips make contact with Steve’s ass, and when he feels like he’s a moment away from catching fire, he slips both hands down to Steve’s hips, pulling him back onto his cock and keeping him there.

Skirting the line of overstimulation, Steve jerks and gasps, like his body can’t decide if it wants to pull away or push back for more.

“Buck,” he gets out, voice strained as he digs his forehead harder into the mattress, “oh god, I’m gonna...”

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky urges, feeling his lungs stutter and tighten, sweat beading in the small of his back as he works his hips in small circles, shamelessly grinding into him.

Steve makes a rough noise in response, no longer capable of anything more coherent than that, and when Bucky finally slips his flesh hand around Steve’s hip to wrap around his cock, giving it a single, tight stroke, that’s all it takes to have Steve moaning, spilling hot and sticky onto the sheets.

Wrung out and barely hanging on, Bucky follows an instant later and, when he does, it feels like a thunderclap, sudden and strong, forcing the last of the air from his lungs as everything fades out for one long, beautiful moment.

When it all comes back to him, he’s somehow managed to make it onto his side, condom gone, and lying nose to nose with Steve, who looks just as deliriously fucked-out as Bucky feels.

“Hi,” Steve says, breathless and smiling and looking like everything that’s blindingly good and wonderful in the world.

“Ugh,” Bucky manages.

Steve frowns a little, reaching up to brush some sweat-matted hair off Bucky’s forehead. “Too much? You want to stop?” He offers, even as Bucky can feel the line of Steve’s still half-hard dick pressing into his thigh.

Bucky shakes his head, his sex-drunk brain slowly searching for words and finally landing on, “No. But just so we’re on the same page, you’re doing all the work of number six yourself.”

Amused, Steve’s eyebrows raise, looking all fond and playful as he says, “Oh?”

 “Yep,” Bucky confirms with a weary-edged grin, taking one of Steve’s hands and sliding it down between his legs, “touch yourself, baby.”

Steve breathes out a soft, shaky breath, eyes momentarily fluttering shut at the contact and god, with those long lashes, the faint pink blush of exertion colouring his cheeks and that disheveled, spiky mess of blond hair, the sight’s almost enough to stop Bucky’s heart right in its tracks.

“How’s that feel?” He murmurs, tearing reluctant eyes away from Steve’s face to instead watch the way his fingers tease the wet, flushed head of his cock.

“It’s...” Steve makes a little noise when his fingers brush a particularly sensitive spot, pausing to wet his lips before finishing between panting breaths, “it’s a lot...but it’s good.”

“Yeah, I imagine five orgasms’ll make a guy a little sensitive,” Bucky teases and despite feeling too hot and sticky with sweat, he still snuggles further into Steve’s side, rubbing his nose along the line of Steve’s cheekbone like an affectionate pet.

Steve turns into the touch, meeting him for a kiss that’s soft and drawn-out, leaving Bucky feeling pleasantly light-headed by the time they break apart.

“Speed up a little,” he instructs when he realizes Steve’s still lazily stroking himself with no real rhythm or pattern to it.

Steve huffs out a soft groan that seems to say ‘I’d really rather not’ but nevertheless he complies, curling his fingers until he’s fully palming the hard line of his cock, working his fist up and down at a pace that’s more steady and measured than fast and frantic.

That’s fine. Bucky’ll get him up to rough and hard and fast in no time.

“That’s it,” he murmurs low and encouraging, watching Steve build a controlled rhythm, “show me how you like it. How you get yourself off when I’m not around.”

Steve’s breathing hard now, pulling in quick, audible breaths as Bucky’s words sink into him like smooth liquor, just as warm and intoxicating. “Like...like this,” he says hoarsely, beginning to tighten his grip on every upstroke.

Fuck, Bucky could watch him do this for days and never get tired of it. “Yeah?” He has to swallow down the thick, husky quality in his own voice before he can keep going. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

Steve nods, still too busy panting to properly answer.

“D’you think about me when you touch yourself? Wish it was me with my hand - maybe my mouth - wrapped around you?” Bucky continues, already feeling the return of that low, curling heat of arousal building down in the base of his stomach. God, he’s so ready to fuck Steve again. It might just kill him but damn, do the rewards ever outweigh the risk.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, shifting until the leg that’s not pressed up against Bucky bends at the knee, heel pressing into the mattress, giving him more leverage as he starts to thrust up into his own hand.  “God, Bucky, you’re all I think about.”

With a fuzzy kind of warmth pooling contently in his chest, Bucky kisses him on the shoulder then brings his right hand up to smooth over Steve’s pec, blatantly feeling him up (which earns him a weak but throaty chuckle) before focusing in on the nipple, rolling over it in small, teasing circles with the pad of his thumb.

The extra edge of sensation has Steve breathing out quiet little ‘ _uhh’_ noises on every exhale, head tipping back and the muscles in his abs flexing tight as he toes the line between release and control. “Close,” he manages to choke out, hand moving quicker on instinct, working over the head of his flushed, overworked cock.

“That’s good.” Bucky has to pause to swallow, throat going dry at the sight of Steve like this. “Jesus Stevie, you’re so good. Doin’ so perfect, baby. Just a little more...”

He keeps up the steady murmur of praise until Steve’s whole body tightens up and he’s coming with a short cry of pleasure. It doesn’t last as long as the others and only a few thin ropes of come join the mess that’s already gathered on his stomach, so Bucky figures they must be in the home stretch by now.

“Finally starting to wear you out, huh?” He runs a hand through Steve’s gross, sweaty hair, and it must be a testament to how completely besotted he is, Bucky thinks, because the action brings nothing but a smile to his face as he leans in to drop a brief kiss on Steve’s nose.

“Gettin’ there,” Steve pants, looking flushed and used and so fucking _wrecked_ , it’s easily the best thing Bucky’s ever been lucky enough to lay eyes on.  “Don’t think I can take much more.”

“Yeah?” Bucky’s eyes flick over him, both in appreciation of all that skin and sweat-slick muscle but also in assessment, gauging just how close Steve is to hitting his limit. “Kinda want to fuck you again,” he admits with a grin, “so if you want to tap out, now’s the time.”

The face Steve makes clearly says that hell will freeze over before he lets a little thing like stamina win out over him.

Bucky laughs, rolling over so he can grab more water from the nightstand. “Drink,” he instructs before starting the less than fun task of sifting through their filthy, tangled-up sheets, trying to track down the lube and condoms.

“God,” Steve sighs after draining the contents of the bottle and setting it aside, sounding tired but resigned to his fate, “I’m not going to enjoy this.” 

With an inelegant snort, Bucky hits him on the thigh (using his lube-y hand too - take that, asshole) and replies in his driest, most sarcastic tone, “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“I might cry,” Steve continues, spreading his legs wide in accommodation when Bucky shuffles in close to him.

“Good,” comes Bucky’s flippant reply, but as he settles between Steve’s legs, leaning over him on hands and knees, he shelves the sass in favour of giving him a soft kiss and a murmured reminder of, “Red if you need it, okay?”

Steve holds him there for a minute, cupping the side of Bucky’s face so he can’t pull away, and his eyes are so blue, so full of soft, melted affection, Bucky nearly whimpers.

Fuck, it’s like trying to look directly into the sun. If the sun were made of big soulful-eyed puppies.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs back in agreement, lips sliding over Bucky’s in one more quick, chaste kiss before he lets his hand drop and they part.

Bucky takes advantage of the opportunity to kiss a line down Steve’s throat, sternum, then stomach until he reaches his cock, looking tender and overstimulated, so Bucky mouths at it gently, sucking soft kisses up the side before letting the head push between his lips.

“ _Oh_ ,” Steve breathes, going unexpectedly tense under him, “oh god.”

“Too much?” Bucky checks in, eyes flicking up the plane of Steve’s stomach as he pulls off.

“Little bit,” Steve admits with a faint, self-deprecating chuckle. “I think I might die if you keep doing that.”

“Another time then.” Bucky presses a quick, soft kiss to the jut of Steve’s hipbone before sitting back up and trailing light fingers down the cleft of Steve’s ass. “Christ,” he says, voice low and appreciative as he traces the tip of one finger around the relaxed muscle of Steve’s rim, “I don’t think I even need to prep you, Stevie. You’re still so loose and wet for me.”

“Buck,” Steve groans, a combination of embarrassment and pleasure intertwined in his tone.

“Yeah you love it, don’t you,” Bucky murmurs fondly as he starts to guide his cock in slow, going inch by inch, feeling Steve yield and open around him, tight and warm and fucking _perfect_ , “letting me take you apart like this, bein’ so good for me.”

The blush blooming across Steve’s cheeks answers for him, and it’s so fucking cute, Bucky can’t help but grin as he moves in for a kiss.

Steve matches him move for move, lips parting and tongues exploring, kissing slow and deep and thorough as he slides his hands down Bucky’s sides, eager to feel as much skin as he can.

And god, Steve’s so tactile, so responsive like this, always welcoming him in without hesitation, Bucky could have three lifetimes of this and it would still never be enough.

“Gonna move now,” he murmurs against Steve’s mouth, gently rocking his hips to give Steve a small taste of what’s to come.

Steve makes a soft ‘mmm’ noise in response, automatically angling up to meet the thrust.

Bucky laughs and does it again, looking down at Steve with a wide, teasing grin. “Not gonna enjoy it, he says.”

“Shut – _ah_ – up,” Steve grumbles, trying to put on an annoyed expression, but he quickly loses the look when Bucky eases back completely and then thrusts into him with a solid smack, eyes going dark and mouth dropping open. “Oh _fuck_.”

“Fuck is right,” Bucky pants out, getting in another one of those hard, steady thrusts and biting off a half-formed moan at how fucking _good_ it is, thrumming through him like a hot, bright electric current. “Jesus Christ, Stevie. You have no idea how good you feel.”

“You feel better,” Steve murmurs back, drawing him back into another long and satisfying kiss, and then, when Steve’s least expecting it, Bucky goes in for the kill.

Planting his palms in the mattress on either side of Steve’s head, he starts fucking with purpose, a hard and relentless drive of his hips, aiming for exactly one outcome: taking Steve over the edge as intensely and pleasurably as possible. It’s time to bring this thing home, and a lucky seven feels like as good a number as any to end on.

“Oh shit.” Steve’s eyes widen when he realizes exactly what Bucky’s plan is. “No, Bucky, no, I can’t, I can’t...”

Momentarily slowing his thrusts to a gentle but deep roll of his hips, Bucky takes a second to study Steve’s face. His breathing’s harsh but stable, eyes shiny-wet but fully present, and he hasn’t tapped out, hasn’t called red, so Bucky shushes him with a sweet kiss. “You can,” he promises, gradually easing them back into that hard, demanding pace, “I know you’ve got one more in you, sweetheart. C’mon, let me see it.”

Steve makes a broken noise in the back of his throat, skin flushed and fire-hot, panting out shallow, moan-filled breaths that seem to travel straight to Bucky’s cock.

“God, baby. Look at you,” he rasps out, voice gone thick and ragged, “so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Oh fuck, Bucky,” Steve pants, fingers pressing marks into Bucky’s back with how hard he’s hanging on, and Bucky groans at the feeling, wanting to see bruises, wanting those marks, wanting anything and everything Steve’ll give him.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Doin’ so good for me,” Bucky urges him on, driving into him hard and possessive, again and again. “Come one more time for me, Stevie, right now.”

“Can’t,” Steve tries to argue, reply coming out more moan than actual word as his muscles tremble, cock twitching where it’s trapped between their bodies, and he’s so close – so fucking close - Bucky can nearly taste it.

Panting hard, he digs his fingers into Steve’s hips now, holding him still at the perfect angle to nail his prostate with every sharp thrust. “Yes,” he grits out, “now, baby. Right fucking _now_.”

And oh, Steve practically _wails_ , back arching and muscles straining as he comes almost dry, only a few weak drops of come seeping shiny and wet from the head of his cock, and the feeling of him clenching and contracting around Bucky is all he needs to follow after him, pressing his face into the sweaty curve of Steve’s neck and moaning out a long string of expletives as he rides out the aftershocks.

Limp and breathing hard, they stay like that for what could be a minute or an hour, Bucky isn’t sure. At the moment, his brain feels too disconnected to process much more than _Steve_ and _warm_ and _good_.

They’re both shaking a little as they finally untangle floppy, uncoordinated limbs and Bucky carefully pulls out, rolling to the side and landing directly in a wet spot from earlier.

Too tired to even consider the possibility of moving, he settles for voicing his displeasure with a sad, soft groan.

“Okay?” Steve’s voice sounds all kinds of fucked as he lets his head flop to the left to look at Bucky, raw and gravelly like he’s just compulsively chain-smoked a whole pack of cigarettes.

“Wet spot,” Bucky explains, and Steve makes a sleepy, sympathetic noise in response.

“We should get cleaned up,” Steve says, even as his eyes are already well on their way to going closed. “In a minute.”

“In a minute,” Bucky agrees, cobbling together just enough energy to move his arm up to rest on Steve’s chest, feeling his heart beat out a steady, comforting tempo under his palm. “How’re you doing?”

Steve’s eyes crack back open into tiny slits of blue. “Kinda hate you a little right now,” he replies in a warmly fond sort of voice that says he’s mostly just teasing.

“Hey,” Bucky interjects, about to tack on a blame-shifting ‘you asked for it, pal’, but Steve beats him to the punch, adding, “But I think I love you a whole lot more.”

 _Oh_.

Bucky blinks.

 “You love me?” He asks, feeling an odd little flutter in his chest as soon as the L word leaves his mouth.

“Well...yeah.” Steve smiles, but it looks a little shy and wary around the edges. “Is that okay?”

“Is that okay?” Bucky repeats, trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Steve fucking Rogers, naked as the day he was born, covered in sweat and come and lube, is currently _asking for permission_ to have feelings for Bucky. God, what a perfect, ridiculous idiot.  “Steve,” he says with all the heartfelt sincerity he can muster, “I have literally never been more okay with anything, ever.”

The way Steve’s whole face lights up is almost blinding. “Really?”

“Really,” Bucky confirms, sliding his hand from Steve’s chest up the side of his neck and towards his jaw, letting his thumb brush the corner of Steve’s smiling mouth, and when Steve tilts his head just enough to press a kiss to the pad of that thumb, Bucky’s whole body floods with warmth and it’s so, so easy, as easy as breathing, to blurt out, “I love you, too.”

And wet spot be damned, he has exactly no compunctions about letting Steve roll him onto his back, covering his body with warm, solid weight as they happily lose more time to making out with roaming hands and easy kisses.

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky comments out of the blue once they’ve paused to take a breather. “What’ll we tell the grandkids?”

Steve looks up from where he’s been busy mouthing a hot, wet line along Bucky’s collarbone to ask, “What?”

“Y’know, when they ask us the story of how we said our first I love you's. We can’t tell them _this_ ,” Bucky explains, waving his hand in a gesture to their sweaty, sticky states. “Fuck, it’ll traumatize them for life.”

“Buck,” Steve says, smiling all stupidly like he’s trying not to laugh, “we don’t even have kids.”

“Yeah but I’m talking like ten, twenty years down the line...” Bucky’s voice tapers off when he sees the wide-eyed expression of bewilderment on Steve’s face. “Shit. Sorry, that was presumptuous of me.”

“You...” Steve swallows, eyes big and blue and so fucking tender as he meets Bucky’s gaze. “You’d actually still want to be with me in ten years? Raise kids and all that?” There’s a note of cautious hopefulness in his voice that makes Bucky’s heart melt.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching up to card fingers through Steve’s (still gross) hair. “I really, really do.”

Steve pushes into the touch, like a cat seeking out head scratches, making Bucky laugh and tug him down by the back of the neck for a kiss.

One turns into two, then three, then four, and by the time they break apart they’re both breathing hard again and eyeing each other up with less than pure intentions.

“Move in with me,” Steve suddenly blurts as they stare at each other. “I know it’s only been a few months, but I love you and I want that - all of that - too. With you. I mean, we don’t have to do any of it right away, you’ve still got school, and I’m not exactly the most stable parental figure when I punch people for a living and have to drop everything to fly half way across the world at a moment’s notice -”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts the stream of sweet, nervous rambling, heart swelling with so much love it feels like it might choke him. “Yes. I want to. Maybe not yet,” he adds consideringly, “exams’ll be coming up, and you’ve still got your hands full with those HYDRA assholes, but after?  Yes. Definitely yes.”

He barely gets it all out before Steve is kissing him again, and the ‘thank you’ goes unsaid but it’s evident in the reverent press of Steve’s lips, the way he tangles the fingers of his left hand with Bucky’s metal ones.

Afterwards, he tucks his head into Bucky’s neck, breath hot as he murmurs, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Bucky murmurs back, feeling giddy that he gets to say it any time – _all_ the time - now.

They lay like that, content to cuddle quietly, until Steve speaks up again a few minutes later.

“Would it still count,” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows and pressing his hips into Bucky’s thigh, letting him feel the thick line of his erection, “if we went for number eight now?”

Bucky laughs, squirming under Steve until he can sit up and slide off the edge of the bed. “Too late, babe,” he says with a grin, tugging Steve up after him. “I think you’re back at one.”

“Seven seems kind of pathetic,” Steve muses, ever the competitive overachiever. “I know I can do better than that.”

“You almost cried when I tried to suck you off at the end,” Bucky reminds him, herding Steve in the general direction of the bathroom and trying not to get too distracted by the miles and miles of bare skin on display.

“I can do better,” Steve repeats, sounding wholly sure of himself, “but first I want to fuck you in the shower. Deal?”

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes out, linking their hands together as he pulls Steve along, the prospect of a shower never sounding so good. “Yeah, deal.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
